


The Hunger Songfic Challenge 7: Momus - I Want You But I Don't Need You

by BellaFuckingRockwell



Series: Bella's 10 Songfics for 10 Songs Challenge [7]
Category: David Bowie (Musician), The Hunger (TV 1997)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, References to Depression, Songfic, Songfic Challenge, Vanilla, i want you but i don't need you, lovemaking, momus - Freeform, vulnerable!Julian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaFuckingRockwell/pseuds/BellaFuckingRockwell
Summary: I've done an old exercise that used to rattle around the LiveJournal fic communities. The exercise is that you put your music library on shuffle and you write a fic in a certain fandom based on the first 10 songs that come up. They're usually meant to be drabbles, but I personally don't do drabbles bc I'm a verbose mf so they're just a bunch of short fics instead. My chosen fandom is The Hunger TV show and pairing throughout is Julian/Drew. They're loosely linked but aren't meant to be linear. I've also been pretty liberal with some of them in terms of how much they're actually based on the song!As it's The Hunger, the themes throughout are pretty fucking dark and potentially triggering in places. I'll post separate warnings for each one, but as a rule they're pretty much all NSFW for violence and/or smut (varying degrees of graphic). 18+ only, should go without saying.DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing. The characters and settings do not belong to me. I'm merely a little fish in a big pond trying to amuse myself. Good day Sir.Song 7: Momus - I Want You But I Don't Need YouSynopsis: Julian doesn’t understand why Drew stays.





	The Hunger Songfic Challenge 7: Momus - I Want You But I Don't Need You

Drew's hair is loose down her back, a blonde waterfall. Her big blue eyes are hazy, her fingers soft and urging as they interlock with his, palms clammy against Julian's as she bites her lip and sinks down onto his cock. She invites him in inch by inch, sighing, blissful, a slack, dreamy smile on her mouth.   
From beneath her, Julian reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear; to cup her face in his hand, unable to stop himself from wavering a little at her beauty. It's short lived, though, when his gaze catches his own forearm; the one that is almost entirely scar tissue, mutilated and mangled and tender to touch, even after all these months.  
Drew strokes his wrist, careful to avoid the damaged flesh. She holds his gaze as she moans softly, a bead of sweat gathering at her clavicle and slipping down between her bare breasts. Their bedroom is warm, the mattress so soft against Julian's back, and he wants nothing more to relax and enjoy this rare, tender moment. He's hard, his body whining for release as he lets Drew take him gently, ride him with that gentle, feminine sway of her hips; his mind, though, is somewhere else entirely, barely registering the friction, the sweet sparks, at all. His brain whirs, grates; he doesn't want the words within his head spoken, made real, but self-control is not his strong point. It always happens anyway.  
“Why do you want me, Drew?”  
“Ssh.” She brings the hand on her face to her lips, gently kissing the backs of his fingers. “Let's not do this now.”  
She's half pleading, half reassuring, he thinks. But he can't stop, even though he should. So he presses on, squeezing the hand in his, trying to be tender. “Do you love me?”  
“Yes, Julian.” She sighs, not impatient, just confused, not understanding, because she doesn't get why he needs to hear this so much. Never will. “You know I love you.”  
“Why?”  
Julian wants to look his lover in the eye, hold her close as they rock and pulsate and gasp towards release. Instead, he can't meet her eyes; that fucking scar holds his attention, like a physical embodiment of the parts of him she can't see, rotten and damaged and disfigured. A mess. Broken.  
Drew can see, however, what he's doing. Where his mind is headed. She lowers his arm onto the mattress beside him, careful not to brush the tender skin too hard against the sheets. Rocks her hips, turning his face to hers, her grip soft on his cheek. “Stop talking,” she whispers. “Stop thinking. I'm here, aren't I?”  
He almost says, for how long? Why won't you run away? Haven't you noticed I'm a monster? That I destroy everything I touch?  
Instead, he closes his eyes. They're starting to burn, to glisten, and he doesn't want Drew to see. It emerges in a murmur: “don't leave me.”  
Her thumb strokes his cheek, and her touch is so tender, so adoring, so undeserved. “Why would I leave you?”  
He's still hard, Drew still moving, yet he feels nothing. His throat burns. “You don't need me. You don't need... this.”  
Her breath catches in her throat, like she's offended. “How can you even say that?” The caressing continues, even as a tear streaks heat down his cheek, caught by her thumb. “Oh, my poor Julian...”  
He doesn't trust himself to continue. Doesn't want to hear his voice crack, knowing he can no longer resist the urge to come undone as he spills his soul to the only woman who's ever seen him like this; and yet she still doesn't go. How can he begin to tell her how terrified he is that one day she'll wake up and realise? That it will hit her like a freight train, like a grenade, that she deserves more, better? That Julian's selfish, ugly greed won't let him love her enough to let her go?  
There's no choice but to give into it. He sits upright, wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in her neck, and Drew stills, stroking his hair and whispering reassurances, declarations of love, affirming her intentions to never leave his side, as he draws her closer and closer, his deplorable, stupid tears dampening her skin. “Don't leave me,” he murmurs, over and over again. “Please don't leave me.”  
While Julian never means to fall apart in front of her, there's something undeniably glorious in it when he can't fight it anymore; his misery, his very private panic at the very thought of being alone forever, and the way Drew shushes and kisses and reassures, a testament to her patience, her very real love, quiets him in a way he can't quiet himself. It silences the questions, gags the bully in his mind, at least temporarily, as he goes soft inside her and eventually she wiggles off of him and guides him beneath the sheets. She lays beside him, holding him as if trying to merge their bodies into one, until he calms, finally, lulled into a sleepy daze as she continues to whisper soft, sweet words into his ear. For tonight, it's done the trick. Tomorrow, the supply runs out, the drug wears off, and he's back to questioning, wondering, pushing her to test what she'll take. And then, when she keeps on coming back, this whole scene will reoccur. Just as the world keeps on turning.  
So while he can, Julian kisses Drew, without biting her lips, without pulling her hair, without grabbing a chunk of her arse like she's a plastic sex doll. Pulls away, his face centimetres from hers on the pillow. “I love you,” he whispers. “I really, really love you.”  
He can see her exhaustion, in the dim light of the bedside lamp; eyes drained, dark-circled, lips twisted into a worried frown. She's suffered years of running after him, literally and metaphorically, dragging him back from every type of edge imaginable, taking his shit and chasing away the scary monsters that haunt him and taunt him and make him do stupid things, like tear his arm apart. She still gets angry with him for doing that, and with herself for not stopping him. Julian Priest is not an easy man to love.  
But she declares, for the thousandth time that night, that she does. Wants him, needs him, knows the difference, feels both. Holds his head to her chest as he drifts into a deep, peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks and the last time for God knows how long.


End file.
